Martin—It's in them already.
Quinn—What's in them?
Martin—Listen, (reads) "Just at dusk this evening a mob of strikers attacked a west bound car at Fourth and Marion Streets, and did considerable damage to the car and occupants. The only woman passenger was seriously injured in the right hand and arm, and was taken to the Lester Hospital, where"—
Quinn—(Interrupting.) Do they know who done it?
Martin—(Reads.) "No clue to the man has been found, but Chief of Police"—
Quinn—(Shortly.) Aw, cut it, Martin. They'll never find the man who did it, unless your tongue wags. I'd like to break the arms of ev'ry one who runs or rides in the cars till we win our fight.
Martin—(Somberly.) Maybe the only way is to do a little damage, break a few bones, show them we've got some spunk ... and yet it is written if a man smite thee on the right cheek—
Mrs. Quinn—I thought the plan this time was to keep the confidence of the people?
Quinn—We've tried that for seven weeks, and it's taken us nowheres.
Mrs. Martin—We've tried most everything I guess, but prayer. Maybe we'd do more if we prayed over it.